there is something about rain that gets in my veins, and I know not whether it is toxic or not. a feeling that came to me as I controlled my gaze above a crowd that was walking each in his or her own direction. I looked above the crowd on this rainy day and felt that my eyes were split between the surface of water, just below and above.

a similar occurance obstructed my thoughts as I looked down. I saw myself flitting between the grounded sidewalk and standing on my own figure, as if I were only able to somehow not step on my own feet I would fall into that great white sky above me. But I cannot, whether in piddle or mind, seem to escape myself. yet there are moments of erasure in the act of sex, on the sedative of television and sleep. Perhaps in these moments of erasure I can escape myself with the tripping step of a drunk, or perhaps paradox through intense consciousness may allow me to fool myself. how can I outsmart myself enough to escape myself.